Four of a Kind: A women's historical fiction

by Russell, Vanessa

  I took in a deep breath to gain some control. I had to confront him with this and I desperately wished I had dealt with this on my own, before having to drag Thomas into the trap with me.

  “Jere is in Tennessee.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he lives there. I met him in Nashville through Mrs. Catt. It was while there that we finally realized our dream to win the woman’s vote. Jere celebrated with us. I had reached the end of a chapter and needed to move on to another chapter and he was there at a very vulnerable time. I realized the mistake on our wedding night in his cabin filled with children. He kindly returned me to Nashville the following day. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.” I didn’t go into the details of Jere’s lost love for my mother. The story was strange enough for Thomas to handle for now.

  “Do you wish to divorce him?”

  “It didn’t matter until now, but yes, yes I do.”

  “Then I’ll find a lawyer in Tennessee. The wine has given me a headache. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” He grabbed his hat and coat and was gone before I could say goodbye at the door. I certainly could have used a comforting kiss right then, but I had more than dampened his romantic intentions.

  “I only have myself to blame,” I muttered, watching his Duesenberg drive him away from his own home.

  I closed the front door and leaned against it closing my eyes, his proposal of marriage slowly sinking in. I felt my heart swell and deflate in rhythm to my lungs as two thoughts repeated themselves: Thomas proposed, I’m already married; Thomas proposed, I’m already married. Poor Thomas thought all the ghosts were gone but found a skeleton in my closet instead.

  I insisted on going to Tennessee alone and deal with Jere without Thomas standing in my shadow. The sooner the better because my conversations with Thomas had become stiff and stilted. Considering he was a reporter he asked few questions but instead was stern and snapped easily. I could only choke back my retorts and tears. I deserved his anger and disappointment; consequently, I felt secretly relieved when he kept his word and made an appointment for me with a reputable lawyer in Nashville. That was the best he could do and I told him so. The lawyer, Mr. McCorriston, finally telephoned to say the papers were ready to sign and be delivered to Jere. The difficulty would be in contacting Jere. He didn’t have a telephone and to write him a letter sounded rather callous to me. I would simply have to find his place and talk to him in person.

  Easier said than done. Mr. McCorriston picked me up at the train station and drove me to his office to discuss the divorce proceedings, but he did not recommend nor offer to drive me the hour’s distance to Jere’s log cabin. If Jere did not agree to sign, he could delay the divorce in the courts for years, Mr. McCorriston said, and that would lead to arguments, and Mr. McCorriston made it clear he was not serviced to police altercations. His tall lanky frame and paper-thin skin attested to that. I had no other recourse but to depend on him and resort to begging. I assured him that Jere was a calm, reasonable man and Mr. McCorriston would have to go no further than the dirt road that ended below Jere’s property. I would walk the remaining way myself. The additional twenty dollars (worth four days of hard labor!) was the final bargaining chip and we were on our way, papers in hand. Jere had only a rural route address in the small village below his mountain, but Mr. McCorriston was familiar with the area. It was my duty to point out the road taking us up the mountain. I only hoped I could remember.

  As we bumped along the town’s pitted street, Mr. McCorriston played with his waxed mustache thoughtfully. He was a slow-talker and looked the part of the courtly southern politician.

  “I got to ask you a question,” he said, “that’s going to sound personal, but better me than a judge in a courtroom full of people. Is there a chance you could be carrying a child?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Are you sure? Because if you find you are, then everything’s thrown out and you’ll have to start all over.”

  “Mr. Phillips and I did not … fulfill our marriage as husband and wife.”

  “You mean you did not consummate?” His eyes left the road and stared at me, his blond lashes blinking in astonishment.

  “That is correct.” I hoped my flushed face was not noticeable.

  “Well then that’s a whole different kettle of fish. Mr. Pickering never mentioned that when he called. Does he know that?”

  “I don’t know, frankly. I just assumed.”

  He laughed and returned to twirling his mustache. He pulled onto a side road and backed out, heading the other way. “We’ll have to throw everything out and start all over, but it’ll sure be a heck of a lot easier this way. All we need from Mr. Phillips is a signed declaration stating that the marriage was never consummated. Since your union’s not validated, he can’t very well contest it. I need the same declaration from you. We’re going back to the office, draw up the two papers and then go to Mr. Phillip’s place. It’s a shame I’ll have to charge Mr. Pickering for work you didn’t need.”

  “Don’t bill Mr. Pickering,” I said. “It’s my responsibility.”

  “Mr. Pickering was quite clear. I’ll bill him. I wouldn’t have taken this case if it was in a woman’s name. Begging your pardon, but there’s no guarantee of a woman’s ability to pay.”

  I didn’t care to argue with him over this and resigned myself to settle the matter with Thomas. Instead, I felt relief in knowing the divorce may be easier than expected, but I was also distressed that the simplicity and speed was based on intimacy, or lack thereof. I would never have dreamt of discussing my sexual conduct with Thomas. And here I was admitting as much with a stranger.

  The trek to the cabin was a long one; we were lost and finally found by a man on horseback who led us to a cut in the trees that passed as a road. He pointed up and then with a spit of tobacco juice, meandered on down the main road. Our uphill climb did not look as familiar as I had hoped, my only guess being I was in a newly-wed stupor on that first ride. Early evening stretched shadows across the cabin and grounds as I paused on the rise above it. November gave its surroundings a scanty look that differed from last year’s late summer growth and hushed the trees, although the weather was more an Indian summer. The squeak of the front porch swing drew my attention there where Mary Sue leisurely drifted back and forth, holding the youngest on her lap and an open book, her bare feet giving them a light push.

  She read out loud, struggling through every one-syllable word, and didn’t see me until I stepped up onto the front porch. “Hello, Mary Sue.”

  Her light blue eyes did not waiver from my face. “Are you coming back?”

  “No - only for a short visit. How are you?” I dusted off the seat of a crude wooden slat chair on the other side of the front door and sat, the envelope clutched in my sweaty palm. I waved at the toddler and she released her thumb from her mouth long enough to smile back. She kicked her legs in some sort of shy exuberance.

  “We’re making it alright. Daddy and the boys are out in the field cutting corn stocks. Should be in directly. Did I make you mad?”

  “Mad? Of course not. Why would you?”

  “Daddy said that’s why you left. Said I was hateful to you.”

  “That wasn’t very nice of him to say that, Mary Sue. It was not your fault.”

  She shifted the baby on her lap and pushed the swing harder.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing, really. I can’t hardly read.”

  “How is school?”

  She snorted. “What school. I haven’t been to school since third grade. It’s too far away. Why are you here?”

  “I have a paper here for your daddy to sign. This will give him the freedom to marry someone else.”

  “He hasn’t been anywhere to meet anybody since you left.”

  “He must sign this. I want a divorce.”

  “Daddy won’t want a divorce. People around here will talk terrible about him, and they already had a prayer meeting to pray for
your lost soul.” We sat thinking about this, while the creaking swing continued. “But you got something in your favor. Daddy thinks more of us kids than what other folks think. I can help you. If we make a deal. Can you read and write?”

  “Of course, Mary Sue.”

  “Don’t say it like that. There’s a lot of people who don’t know how. You teach me how to read and write and I’ll make Daddy sign.”

  “I’ll teach you whether he signs or not. But I can’t do that here. If you move into town, closer to a school, or if you ever move to Annan, where I live—”

  “Daddy’ll never agree to me leaving home. He needs me too bad.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Then he can’t keep you here against your will. You’re a grown woman now. You certainly are doing the work of a woman. Isn’t there someone else who can take over? One of the boys?”

  “I do woman’s work, so the boys won’t do it. Elsie Price said she would, if we need her. She just lives down the holler from us. The church ladies said they’d take turns coming in too, but we never asked them before. But even if they did, it don’t matter because somebody needs to be here all the time to cook the three meals and feed the chickens and haul in the water and wash the clothes.”

  “We’ll talk to him together and see if he has any suggestions. Do we have a deal?” I walked over and extended my hand to her.

  She shook it hard, her eyes set on determined. “A deal.”

  The boys were walking in from the field by then and Mary Sue carried the now-sleeping toddler into the house to “set the table”.

  Jere saw me and slowed his pace. “Boys go on around back and wash up. I’ll be in directly.” He wiped his face with the bandana tied loosely around his neck. Strands of hair had come undone from his pony tail and stuck to his face and neck. “Bess, this is a surprise.”

  “I had no other way of contacting you.”

  “No, I suppose not, although we do get letters in these here parts, believe it or not.”

  I held up the envelope. “I thought best to meet with you.”

  “Well, this sounds like official business, not a social call. Mary Sue?” he called through the screen door. “Fetch us two cold glasses of milk.” He sat in the swing and focused his deep blue eyes on me. His dirty white undershirt and dusty denim trousers did not detract from his graceful yet muscular way of moving. He had thick legs and thick arms, but a narrow waist.

  “Feels good to sit,” he said. “I’m trying to work while the weather’s good but I don’t think days like today are meant for work. We’re meant to pray that hell’s heat hasn’t risen.”

  He raised the palms of his callused hands to me, dirt in every crease. “I’d give you a hug or shake your hand but I’m too sweaty. You wouldn’t like it.” He wiped them on his trouser legs.

  I heard a hint of irritation in his voice so I decided not to dillydally. “I understand, Jere. I won’t stay long. I’m here to ask you to sign this declaration of annulment. The annulment will separate us legally. It means that because we did not—”

  “I know what it means,” he said. He stared at the floor beyond his feet. “Are you sure you want the stigma of divorce on your record? I don’t think I do.”

  “An annulment says the marriage never happened in the eyes of the law, so there’s no divorce. That’s the way I see it, too.”

  “That’s not the way I remembered it. We still said our vows.”

  Mary Sue came out with milk-filled canning jars and handed each of us one. She sat next to Jere, her hands under her legs as if to keep them still.

  “Daddy, Bess and I had a real nice talk. She still wants to be part of the family. She wants to help us.”

  He raised his eyebrows to her. “What do you know, little missy?”

  “She wants to teach me how to read and write and then I can teach my brothers and sisters.”

  His gaze turned to me. “Bribery, huh?”

  “No, that’s not how this started, but I suppose it is a sort of trade-off. Mary Sue and I made a bargain.”

  “Why is this so important to you, Bess? Are you wanting to marry another man?”

  This was the question I dreaded and had tossed around in my mind for days. If I told him yes, he might not sign for spite. If I told him no, he might have reason to delay his signature. For sake of argument, I decided to go somewhere in-between.

  “I hope to get married some day. But as long as I’m legally married … well, really Jere, doesn’t it look worse to be married but not live together, than it does to just admit our mistake and move on with our lives? And to prove to you I’m not a total write-off, I want to help your daughter.” I paused here, desperate for some solution, some compromise that would make this work. Could I take her back with me? I could send her to school from the Lighthouse. We had plenty of room. Besides, I admittedly relished the thought of taking Mary Sue out of these woods and educating her into my own creation of a fine intelligent woman. She had the longing for learning; I could see it in her eyes.

  “I propose that I take Mary Sue back to Annan with me and I’ll send her to school there.”

  “No,” he said. He locked his arms across his chest.

  “She can live with me at the Lighthouse. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “No, I said. I need her here.” His stone countenance irritated me. I could be callous too, I thought as my will to debate rose within me.

  “Oh yes, you need her here alright, to be your slave, to cook and clean for you. You, who spoke out in many a women’s conference. You who said women should be treated equally and have a vote and a right to say what they need in their lives. Mrs. Catt said you spoke beautifully. Why do you preach but not let one of your own practice it?”

  “Bess, I ask no more from Mary Sue than I do from the rest of my younguns. That’s not why I want her here. My Cherokee mother only had boys and she taught us all how to cook and clean. I can do that myself if I have to.”

  Mary Sue placed her hand on his arm. “Daddy, I’ve worked hard for you, now let me go and do something for me. And sign that paper and let Bess go. You hang on to things you don’t even need. You just don’t like letting go is all. You all will be fine and then when I come back, I can pass my learning on down. We can’t stay ignorant, Daddy.”

  Well said, little missy, I thought as I watched him struggle with his emotions. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tapping on the arm of the swing with his knuckles.

  “I suppose you’ll be wanting to take her back with you today?” It was more a statement than a question.

  “That would be easiest. My driver is waiting for me in the car.”

  “Well, bring him in for supper. She’s not leaving on an empty stomach. It won’t take her long to pack. She’s your sheep now, I’ll let you wool it.”

  He walked past me to the screen door without meeting my eyes, his face blank, but his shoulders drooped in defeat. He must hate me by now, I thought, wincing as the screen door slapped shut behind him. I’ve given him nothing but I’ve taken a great deal away.

  Mary Sue smiled the first smile I’d seen on her, timid and shaky as if her mouth muscles were out of practice and couldn’t quite lift. “We all will be just fine,” she said in that soft southern drawl of hers.

  I had no doubt that she at least would be. I had doubts about me.

  I’d brought on more than I bargained for. I hadn’t thought things through clearly, so desperate was I to get that annulment signed. Mary Sue was far behind in education for her age, so the school principal recommended fulltime tutoring until January’s new term. They would test her then for possible enrollment in seventh grade. I was responsible for getting her up to that level before then.

  When I told Thomas about this though, he could not see the tremendous burden I had taken on. “Good girl, Bess. You’ve never been responsible for someone else before. You may learn as much as this little girl does.” He closed the door to his offi
ce and took me into his arms. “You’re a very good girl indeed,” he said, his tone as soft as his gaze. His head dipped and his lips pressed mine gently. I blinked in wonder and saw his eyes were wide open as well. He backed away an inch and I reached for more, letting my lashes flutter closed, only wanting to feel him, touch him. The kiss lingered longer, me savoring the flavor as I would with ice cream. My fingertips traced his cheeks and jawbone and were lost in his thick hair. When he heard the soft moan, he pulled away. He squeezed my shoulders and returned my questioning gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, their green depths warm as summer grass. “As soon as that Tennessee lawyer calls and says we’re clear, we’re getting married. Or else I’m going to make a bad girl out of you.”

  At that moment, I had no objection either way. I held true love and I now understood its meaning. To long for someone physically, well, I didn’t know this could be possible with Thomas but here I stood hungering for more of his lips.

  “Kiss me again and I might marry you,” I said.

  He grinned and gave me a light peck. “Oh, you’ll marry me. You have to. I’m the boss and you have to do what I tell you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, batting my eyes, not the least bit irritated by his advantage. He squeezed my shoulders again and returned to his desk. “Besides,” I continued in that sweet little girl tone, “I’d like to see more of those burning eyes and flushing cheeks. They’re far more interesting than that business mask you just put back on.”

  He let out a short laugh but picked up a stack of papers in spite of me. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, stop flirting with me. It’s distracting and we have a day’s work to do.”

  He put his spectacles on the end of his nose and sat still for a moment. “Tell you what I want you to do.” He pulled some papers out of his stack and handed them to me. “Take these company requests for advertisements and write them from the Lighthouse. From now until Mary Sue starts to school in January, work from there. You’ll have a full day teaching her as it is. Do your newspaper work while she is studying.”